Court of Justice
by Adreus
Summary: hiatus — Leo's sick of seeing hospital waiting rooms when he meets Johan Andersen, and learns of the existence of Yuki Judai — the only spiritual expert in the world that can get his sister out of her coma.
1. Lion

**Notes:** This diverts from 5D's canon with Leo and Luna's origin in a few ways: 1) they're older, maybe six or seven, when Luna enters her coma; 2) the way she _leaves_ her coma is going to be different, and the central focus of the story; 3) Luna does not have Kuribon when she enters it. There'll probably be further diversions as I go on; whatever the case, diversions are for the purpose of the crossover... so... yeah.

Please review!

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><p><em>Court of Justice<em>

LION

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><p>He gets used to plain, yellowed walls in silent, estranged rooms that smell like medicine and feel like Hell, except the heater's never on so it's always cold. There are chairs and tables and old toys shaped like abacuses, but he's played with all the worn wood before and they're still just as useless at diverting his attention as they've always been. In another service for distraction, there are scattered magazines on the tables—but the <em>kanji <em>are too difficult so he can't read them, and the kids in the pictures are happy and smiling so he can't look at them, because his sister isn't happy and she isn't smiling and she isn't even awake.

Leo sits in the hospital's waiting rooms for hours, because there's nowhere else to go and no one else to go to. Sometimes, he brings something to do—an action figure to fidget with, some homework to work on—but mostly he sits in empty rooms and waits alone for nothing and everything, because he's not allowed to see his twin sister until the _official_ people in the _official_ white coats decide what's wrong with her, because they're still not sure if it's parental abandonment or the hit she took to the head or maybe she's just a mental case, maybe she was born with a problem. They don't even ask him what he has to say about any of this, and it's all unfair. He's the only one that really cares about her, and he's the only one forbidden from seeing her, because he's too small and they're afraid that whatever's going on will "affect him negatively". That's stupid, he thinks, after figuring out what that's supposed to mean; that's stupid, because she's his _sister_, and he's the one who knows her best and really, who else does she have, who else does _he _have, and don't they know that any "negative effects" will have reached him already anyway? But the nurses and doctors and all the _official_ people don't care—they'll speak to him later, because he doesn't understand, because it's more serious than he thinks. They'll tell him when they know what's wrong and when they know how to break it to his tiny, stupid brain.

_This_ is wrong. Sitting here, doing nothing, feeling useless. That's what's wrong.

By now, Leo practically lives in the hospital. Every night he takes the bus home at 8:59pm because that's when he absolutely has to leave, and he crawls into bed under three blankets and with two stuffed animals, and he tries to sleep but he can't because it's _scary_ being alone (or maybe it's just scary without _Luna_), so he kind of stays awake until he's too tired or too scared to be awake anymore, and then he drifts. Then before he knows it it's morning and he's awake because there's a ringing somewhere in the house from the phone that he lost (the phone that he threw into the swimming pool when their parents didn't pick up, and then he felt so bad about ruining it that he dove in and got it back and climbed up on a stool and hid it on top of the fridge, where now he can't reach it), and he knows who it is because it's at the same exact time every day and there are only two people he knows in the entire world that are so infuriatingly punctual.

His makeshift alarm wakes him, but he doesn't thank it or reward it, and once he's awake he's awake and it's usually time for school. He picks up his backpack and walks off to the bus stop and then he's in some sort of trance as he goes through the day and pretends it's okay and finally, after seven hours of _nothing,_ he's at the lobby of the hospital and he asks if he can see Luna and they say not yet and they don't even look apologetic, and so he heads to the same waiting room and sits down. He leaves a sweater and a blanket in there now, because no one else is ever in there with him (and if they are they don't pay him any attention) so it's safe to leave his things.

And he waits.

Luna'd probably think it uncharacteristic of him, to be so quiet and so sober for so long; Leo can barely remember the last time he's used his voice to say anything he cared about. He knows that sometimes he speaks to nurses and asks them questions (he doesn't remember what they say) and he knows that sometimes he's called on in school for an answer (he doesn't remember what he says) so he knows at least that he's not mute, but it's never anything important enough to be called "talking".

And so life's pretty much a blur, and has been for the past two weeks.

It doesn't change until he makes up his mind.

On the fifteenth day that Leo sits in the waiting room, the fifteenth painful day that he can't see Luna, can't talk to her or see her or know how she's been doing, Leo decides it's time to take a stand. He nods to himself, stands up, sheds himself of his sweater and makes two fists. There's no door in the waiting room; it's really just a designated space with three special walls, so Leo walks out of it without slamming a door or making an entrance, which is good, because he realizes when he leaves that it's probably better to sneak around so the _official_ people won't catch him and tell him he's wrong when he isn't.

He gets on all fours on the floor—the people at the nurses' station have memorized his face and purpose, and it's no good if they see him because they'll know what he's doing—and in the hopes that they won't notice, he crawls on the floor and pushes himself to the other side of the hallway, careful to stifle the sounds of his struggle. He knows where her room is (he's spent time just staring in its general direction, as though Luna will just get up and walk out someday) and he knows how to get into the special ward: He overheard the passkey the other day, because there's not much else to overhear but idle chatter and previously useless information. Leo grins to himself when he reaches the big silver entrance with the code machine to its left. He's Leo, he thinks victoriously. He's Leo, he's the brave lion, and he'll do whatever he wants and no one can stop hi—

—Before he even has the chance to type in the passkey and open the door, or even properly congratulate himself on a job well done, Leo's hit in the face as the door slams open from the other side.

"Oww!" Leo yelps, completely shattering any semblance of his former subterfuge, and all at once there's gasps from the information desk and a confused voice from the other side of the door and then Leo's surrounded by people, all of them speaking at the same time, asking each other what happened and what's going on and how he got there, and Leo's surprised when he hears amidst the chaos an unfamiliar and strange voice—upon which the ruckus dies down.

"Sorry!" the voice says, and Leo traces it up and comes to the figure that's slipped through the door, the tall man who stands there and apologizes profusely, scratching the back of his head and smiling sheepishly. What's strange about this man isn't that he's someone Leo's never seen before—rather, it's his appearance and his voice, both of which are distinctly foreign. His eyes are a vibrant shade of blue, but they're warm, friendly, and they match his fluffy blue hair. His face is clearly Western, and his Japanese, while smooth, contains the hint of an accent that has slowly been fading away with practice. To further stand out from the crowd of official looking lab coats, the man is dressed in jeans and a long purple V-neck that reveals his collarbones, and the only things that marks him as similar to any of the other hospital workers are the glasses on his face and the ID card swinging from the lanyard around his neck.

"Sorry!" the man apologizes again, "I really didn't mean to hit you!" He's almost comically animated, and he crouches down to Leo's level, where the boy's sitting up on the floor with a spinning head. "You okay, little guy?"

Leo closes his eyes and shakes his head around to snap out of his stupor. For a moment the staff of the hospital and the new man regard him carefully as he gathers his bearings. Then:

"…Hey!" He jumps up and back and shouts out, pointing an accusatory finger at the stranger, "I don't know who you are, Mister, but you completely ruined my plan to go see Luna!"

The accused's eyes widen, almost childishly. "Whoa!" he responds, surprised, and he throws up his hands in what could be a gesture of defense, except that his palms face inward. "I'm awful."

Leo huffs and agrees, crosses his arms angrily, glaring at the man.

The man goes on, speaking gently, "Is there any chance that this Luna is your sister?"

Leo hesitates before nodding, and it even looks like he might cry. "They won't let me see her," he answers, and the man nods, frowning.

"Let's fix that, shall we?" he speaks, standing up and offering Leo his hand. "I'm Johan. I came here to take a look at your sister for you, Leo."


	2. Guardian

GUARDIAN

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><p>The landlady keeps asking him when he's going to move out, because even though he pays rent when she demands, he's never actually around and she's one of the three or four people that are aware that he's actually filthy rich. He can buy a house or mansion or both with ease, but he chooses not to, simply because he doesn't need them—really, the only reason he has this place now is because it's nice being able to say that he has an address. It can't be all that strange if he's more familiar with Johan's room than his own, right? Whatever; he spends most of his time travelling, anyway, so there's nothing about this place that bothers him, and even if she's always on his case, Yuki Judai knows that the landlady is too much a sweetheart to actually kick him out.<p>

Presently, Judai enters the residential building sandwiched between the dentistry and an old fashion candy store. It's been raining in the outskirts of Neo Domino City, and Judai didn't think to bring an umbrella (he can't even remember if he owns one), so he's dripping wet in his long brown coat and his hair is a mess, and his shoes squeak and make the floor slippery but the welcome mat's missing so he can't help it. Judai's apartment is the rackety old thing on the third floor, right opposite from storage, and the window in the bedroom has a pleasant view of the back entrance of a bar. The room isn't worth much—it's why the rent is so little—but Judai only needs the bed and the bathroom and occasionally the storage space, so, predictably, it doesn't bother him.

Judai fidgets with his key and forces it through the keyhole. The smell that fills his senses the moment he opens the door is five different kinds of awful, but he takes a breath and walks in, sets down his bag and closes the door.

"I'm home," he says into the dark room, flipping on the lights.

As he shrugs off his coat he hears in response: "Welcome back."

At that Judai smiles, but doesn't respond. He removes his shoes and stretches his arms, shakes his hair dry and wonders at how long it's been since he's last been here. He scans over the table and the bed and the fridge, looks at the dirty grey curtains that he thinks may once have been green. He locates the closet and pulls out a towel and a brush and fixes his hair, then lies down on the bed and for a moment he simply closes his eyes, sighs at the comfort it brings him—there were no comfortable places to rest where he last was.

Finally, he thinks himself sufficiently comfortable and he speaks to the spirit that doesn't seem to be there: "As though you weren't with me the entire time."

It's as if a sudden weight appears on the bed beside him. Judai opens his eyes and turns to his side, smiling.

"I'm always with you," says the incontestable Yubel, who's looking back at him from her perch at the edge of the bed.

"I know."

There's silence, comfortable and buzzing with thoughts and memories of their latest adventure, dulled only by the consistent pitter-patter of rain on the windows and the walls. Judai rests his head in his arms and stares at the ceiling, recalls all the new friends he's made within the past month and all the new enemies he's had to deal with within the past year. This is how it's been for a while now; just Yubel and Judai and adventures across different dimensions, spiritual trips to pasts and futures.

Has it already been ten years? Or maybe it's been more? Is he too apathetic if he says he can't even remember how old he is anymore? Time works differently when he's residing over the Darkness and fighting the Light than it does when he's saving the a group of Kuriboh from a malevolent ruler than it does when he's sleeping soundly in Johan's bed while the man in question isn't even home. It's a blustering storm of watches and worlds and responsibility and it sends him in a tailspin when he tries to understand it so there's yet another thing with which he simply doesn't bother. The pace at which the list grows is not something he's praised for.

Speaking of Johan.

"Have you called him yet?"

Judai would call Yubel's proclivity for addressing exactly what he's thinking about uncanny, but he's certain that it's perfectly sensible.

He tries not to tense up.

"It's strange of _you _to ask that," he mutters, and he can feel the ghost of his coat around him, can feel the ghost of the weight of his phone in its pocket. Can hear the phantom telltale ring of Johan Andersen calling him for the fifth time in a single day. The churning in his stomach as he ignores his closest human friend.

Yubel frowns. "It is unlike you to ignore him. I am concerned."

Above Judai's head, a winged creature appears and looks upon its family with sadness. Crying out, Winged Kuriboh nudges his master softly, and Judai closes his eyes so as to avoid seeing the guilt-inducing looks from either side of him, but the tactic is largely useless because under his lids he can see the imprint of his former friends, can see how angry they'll be with him should he ever see them again. Yubel wonders—and by extension, the thoughts enter his mind, as well—on what's getting into him; why he's once again distancing himself from people that care about him and people that he cares about. Why he considers them _former_ when they clearly consider him _current_, even though they haven't seen him years and in Johan's case he's been ignoring his phone calls for no good reason.

Yubel's presence in the back of his mind is something that consistently guilts Judai into making amends of his actions and personality. Their relationship works in strange ways; they have their own separates thoughts and personalities, and as the Supreme King, Judai is able to give Yubel a tangible form, but they are still together; they are still fused, and so Judai can sense—invade is not the word—her thoughts if he wants to, and she can sense Judai's thoughts if she wants to, and there's nothing to hide, so usually there's nothing to be embarrassed about.

But lately, Judai's been oddly avoidant. Not of Yubel—never Yubel—but of his former classmates and friends. After graduating Duel Academia, Judai disappeared from their radars for a year or so, but he returned for some time and earned himself the occasionally yen by making guest appearances at his former school. He's even attended a few Christmas parties over the years—there was one with Asuka and the one at Manjoume's manor, and then all the years with Johan and the gem beasts. But Judai's mellowing out again; it's something about being in Neo Domino City, maybe, that makes him quieter and older and sadder when there's no reason for any of that. The scars of Zero Reverse don't directly affect Judai, after all.

Presently, Yubel stands and retrieves Judai's coat, digs through its pockets to pull out an old mobile phone that's miraculously survived travelling through dimensions and running through airports and even the occasional week of being lost in Judai's bag. She checks the screen: it reads that there are three more missed calls and three unread text messages. Yubel clicks a button and puts in a password and reads two aloud.

_Judai,_

_Do you know how old you are?_

_Or have you lost count?_

_I'm in my thirties and it's a scary place._

_But there's nothing scarier than where we were back then._

_So come into the sun every now and then, yeah?_

The second is less formal, less kind.

_Judai,_

_It's not going to hurt you if you pick up a damn phone call every now and then._

_Do you know how much I have to pay each time I hit your stupid voice mail?_

_International isn't cheap._

Judai turns over in bed, lies on his stomach and hides his head in the pillow, tries to ignore Yubel, tries to ignore Johan's words, wonders why it is that he still acts like he's seventeen.

"There's another one," Yubel tells Judai, and she slides the phone over to him. "I am in agreement with its content."

Judai doesn't feel like reading it, but there's a stray part of him that lifts his head and glances over at the screen facing him, a stray part of him that's always curious about what Johan has to say:

_You know there are people out there that need you?_

And there's a stray part of him that grabs the mobile phone, and quickly types out the first words Judai's said to anyone other than Yubel in the past few weeks:

_You don't need me._

And there's a stray part of him that closes his eyes and wonders what's going to happen next. His heart beats fast and he feels miserable, and Winged Kuriboh comes closer and warms up his face and Judai looks at his companion of more than a decade and he smiles softly, but his frown immediately returns as he anxiously tightens his grip on the phone in his hand. Minutes feel like hours and there's a buzzing in his ear as he waits, and wonders if Johan will even respond, wonders how old the messages even are, wonders if Johan has given up on him.

Judai has a problem. Sometimes, when he's alone and staring up at the clouds, he feels like he doesn't have a purpose.

Even though he does.

His purpose is to stand with Yubel and to travel through the dimensions and protect things; over the years, he's become a guardian of spirits. He's grown closer with spirits and he's grown older and he's grown to accept a lot of responsibility, and the nomadic lifestyle that comes with the nature of his purpose.

But there's still something missing; a hollow in his heart that appears whenever he hears Winged Kuriboh's cry.

Judai starts reading the message before the phone even finishes vibrating.

_You're right. I don't. _

_Someone else does._

_Call me_.


	3. Miracle Worker

**Notes: **In today's episode of 'I'm destroying all the canon you know and love', let's deal with duel spirits—and how in this version of Neo Domino, they're _weird_ (… at least, at the moment).

This chapter was obnoxiously difficult to write, so I apologize if it's as messy as I feel like it is?

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><p>MIRACLE WORKER<p>

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><p>The office he's given temporarily has the lingering smell of coffee and the long lasting stench of sickness, accented terrifically with ugly yellowing walls and a computer so out of date for Neo Domino City that it has a screen. It's a cramped room with a tiny desk and three metal folding chairs for Johan and potential visitors, plus a single lackluster tableau of a bushel of flowers hanging on the wall, gloomy and grey even in painted reds. The only positive thing Johan can think to say of the room is that it has a window—a window, but not a nice view, because there's something about Neo Domino City that doesn't sit well with Johan, that makes him innately uncomfortable and anxious to leave the city's boundaries.<p>

It is, however, out of the question for him to leave now, as the plaque on the door neatly announces the office of JOHAN ANDERSON—SENIOR SPIRITUAL CONSULTANT. It's an office that he thinks he's qualified for, sure, but it's not one he plans on keeping for too long, because there's only so much of hospitals and wards and Neo Domino that he can take. It's too different from his usual lifestyle, being here—so different, in fact, that sometimes he finds himself realizing all too suddenly where he is, what he's doing, as though he's waking from a trance, waking up into the middle of his life. But Johan does his best to ignore the epiphanies, does his best to adopt to Neo Domino's lifestyle, and works his hardest to help the patients for whom he's consulted, if only because it brings him his daily bread.

It's all just really weird, almost unnatural. Where he is now doesn't feel like Japan at all—or at least not the Japan that he knows and remembers. It's probably just his warped version of the archipelago playing with his judgment—after all, who thinks of sea salt and shrimp and big brown eyes when they think of Japan? Who thinks of an island with endless sunshine and laughter and stupid seventeen-year-old sleepovers? The common vision of Japan isn't one so innocent or nostalgic—Zero Reverse's scars still haven't cleared away, after all, and left in the devastation's wake is a broken city with shattered values and stupid systems.

The tall, grey building calls itself the Center for the Spiritually Unstable and towers in the center of the city, two blocks from the Arcadia Movement but miles away in terms of citizen support. The mental institution is more-or-less a dumping ground for people that society deems strange; in Neo Domino City, people who can see spirits are rare or weird and unwanted, and spiritual "problems"—the likes of which Johan's been dealing with all his life—are just too confusing or too time consuming to be dealt with.

That's why they called Johan, spelled his name wrong on the "refurnished" office door, and offered to pay his rent.

Johan's not sure if he's more in it for the money, for the field of work, or for—he sighs, glances at his idle phone—something else entirely.

But he's here.

His fingers drum idly on the keyboard as he reads his notes and rain begins to fall and he's here.

Presently he sets down the papers and his hand moves to the cup of hot chocolate on his desk; his eyes take the opportunity to look to the boy in the chair facing his desk. Leo's been surprisingly quiet for the time Johan's been typing away at his computer; there's a look about the boy that suggests that the cloud that's enveloped his life has taken more than his sister and his good humor. Johan scowls. There's no reason why a little boy like him should look so sad—no good reason, except for the little girl Johan saw earlier today that doesn't deserve her current fate, either. The spiritual troubles that Johan usually encounters aren't ever so drastic, so scary; usually, the subjects can't even see Ruby, and if they can't see other's spirits, they aren't as bad as it's made it out to be—really, with the exception of cases like Luna, Johan thinks seeing spirits isn't bad at all. It's nice, to have these powers, to see these spirits, because they're like imaginary friends that are all too real and all too loving and they're always there when you need them. For this reason particularly the situation of Luna and Leo guilts him and scares him like no other—this reason, and the reason that the files he's accessed about the twins have listed no parents, no guardians, no family.

And Johan's been there. He's done that.

And if living through it's not enough, he's seen it, too; seen it too many times, still can't wrap his head around the number of people that act so ridiculously _stupid_. Leo and Luna aren't over ten years old—what the hell could such small souls have done to deserve solitude? He eyes the kid in front of him and shakes himself and strives to finish typing his damn reports as quickly as possible, newly determined to help their case, freshly annoyed at himself for taking his patient notes by hand.

The other adults think him odd for preferring pen and pencil, but Johan can't help his preferences; computers may be faster, more advanced, but they make him feel like he isn't _doing _anything himself, because he needs to do something with his own two hands. It's a personal choice he tends to regret when it comes time to type his notes – something he has to do immediately, and something he's doing right now. Somehow he feels like he's betraying Leo by choosing the paperwork over the paper doll the kid seems to have become.

Leo doesn't even have the capacity to occupy himself. He's staring at his hands, at his feet, at the ugly grey floor, and he doesn't fiddle around or sigh or ask questions or anything, just sits there in quiet and it's unnerving to watch him. Ruby sees the boy's discomfort and, saddened, appears on Johan's desk, looks at him for counsel, and at his nod leaps to the boy and rests her head in his lap, comforting, calm; and though Leo can't see her and has no idea that she's there, he's stimulated, an invisible button on his being pressed that shakes him, and he looks up, catches Johan just as the man returns his gaze to his never ending paperwork.

"Um," speaks Leo, and his voice is weak, "Mister Andersen…"

"Johan," the adult corrects without looking at him.

"Ahh… Johan-oniisan—"

"No, no, just Johan. It's okay, Leo."

"Right… okay, well, um, Johan." Leo hesitates, bites his lip, stares nervously down at his feet again before he can summon his courage again. "You… you said that you could help Luna, right?"

"…Right," says Johan carefully.

"Then…" begins Leo, and he takes a deep breath, looks up, his eyes wide, tearful, "Then why are we here?"

And there it is, right there, that look and that voice and Johan feels like absolute crap because he's done it again, he's promised something and he's going to fulfill it, but it'll take _time_, time that he's not sure the people that are depending on him have.

"I'm sorry, Leo," he apologizes, with what he hopes is warmth, "I know I told you I'd get you to Luna as fast as I could, but I have to settle a few things before they'll allow me to."

The warmth is lost on Leo, whose eyes freeze at the words so quickly that Johan, feeling antagonized by someone so young, finds it difficult to keep the stare—but he does. Leo's heart can't even sink anymore, he's so used to this—so used to people giving him a chance and some hope and then quietly telling him that the hope isn't his to have.

"Oh," says Leo steadily, "so… you're just like all the other grown-ups?" As he speaks, he looks as though he'll cry, and when Johan opens his mouth to respond, Leo looks away and, yeah, there they are, the tears begin to flow, fat and wet along his cheek. Johan curses under his breath—he's not _bad_ at handling children, per se, but he knows that with Leo it's going to be a lot harder to calm him down, a lot harder for Johan to explain himself. Because Leo's not the one in the coma, not the one lost in a dream in a hospital bed. He's the one walking to school alone every day, waiting in a smelly hospital room for something to be different, just waiting, waiting, and feeling absolutely useless.

But there's nothing new to tell him, Johan knows, because he saw Luna and Ruby saw Luna and there was no helping her—not like this. Johan doesn't have spiritual powers. He never did. All he has is their _sight_.

It was partially a lie, he thinks. What he did to Leo. Smiled at him. Implied that he would be able to see his sister today.

See, Johan's not allowed to do any of that unless he can get a response from Luna. A single twitch, toss, or turn. And that's something Johan's incapable of doing.

But he knows someone who _is _capable.

_Pick up your phone._

He grits his teeth.

"I _will_ get you to her, I promise," Johan says. He doesn't think Leo believes him.

"But not today?"

"I'm sorry."

"I think I'll go home," says the boy, and he stands up and marches to the door, and it's late, almost nine'o'clock. Johan wonders if he should offer to walk him, or if Leo has someone else downstairs to take him, or if he has anyone to do anything, really. Ruby appears beside her brother, makes soft sounds and looks sad. Leo doesn't turn. He swallows, runs down the hallway and slams the door behind him.

And just as Johan gets up to run after him—

_Beep!_

One new message.


End file.
